Small Victory
by Raeni12345
Summary: "No Jack. You need to feel. Real emotions, not tea."


**AN: My first foray into the world of M. Takes place within my story "Of Tea and Tension", around the end of chapter 8. Hopefully can stand on its own too. **

**Everyone seems to do Hatter and Alice... I have a few of those that I am working on as well, but I thought for my first try I would write Jack and Duchess - post-movie. Please read and review. Constructive criticism welcome.  
**

_"Charlotte, have you been replacing my teas with the counterfeits?"_

_The Duchess admired the control in his question. But she met his gaze and answered, "No, Jack, I haven't."_

_She saw Jack visibly relax, and he didn't question her further. So she never told him that she was, however, diluting them._

…

She stood, statuesque, by the side door, watching her king speaking with a couple of suits. He was, as usual, immaculately groomed and impeccably dressed in a red suit, a white shirt buttoned all the way tight against his throat and accented with a black tie. His countenance was one of complete calm, but she could see the strain that marked his forehead and tightened his jawline, and his light, blue-gray eyes spoke of a hidden storm.

The tea was almost gone from his system. The Calm, or Serenity, or Peace – it all amounted to about the same. And if she had her way, he wouldn't be taking any more of it. She knew that the last two days had worn him down, and certain members of the council were trying to push their advantage. But tonight she wanted him to feel. She wanted him to let it out. And she wanted it to be real. Like it had been that night, the night he had proposed in earnest. Her body reacted with a flush of heat at the memory. And she longed to relive it.

Jack tried to focus on what the suits were saying, tried not to continually steal glances toward the side door. But his attention was constantly drawn, regardless. Though nothing on the ridiculously revealing outfits that she had worn before, his fiancee looked exquisitely sexy in a tight silver and red dress that was slit well up her shapely thigh, and her lips were tantalizingly red. And she kept gazing at him, a seductive smile playing on her mouth and desire evident in her large blue eyes.

Focus, he commanded himself silently, tearing his eyes away from her and back to the men before him. But he could feel the tension mounting, and his pants were starting to feel restrictive. He swallowed hard, hoping the men before him didn't notice.

If they did, they gave no indication. But Duchess did. She bit her lip and the corners of her mouth turned even further skyward as a slightly flushed Jack stole another glance in her direction. She could tell she was getting to him, and fully intended to take advantage of that as soon as they were alone.

The two suits finally turned to leave, and Duchess released a breath that she wasn't aware she had been holding. Jack rose, a little clumsily for the usually rather graceful king, and turned toward her. But before he could take more then a step in her direction, the door at the end of the room burst open, and the Nine of Clubs called out, "Your majesty!"

Duchess bit back a curse, and glared at the intruding Club for a long moment. He glanced at her nervously, then at the king, then back at her.

"Sorry for the intrusion, but..." he faltered, squirming under Duchess' gaze. The king was now looking at him, barely veiled impatience evident in his eyes. "It's... um..." He broke off finally and backed away toward the door he had just come in. "I'll come back later." Then he fled the way he had come.

Jack smirked slightly and turned back toward the Duchess, his pupils widened with lust, but propriety still governing his actions. He held out an arm to her. "Shall we?"

Duchess linked her arm through his, and they exited the throne room toward the bedchambers.

…

Jack shut the door with a sound click, and threw the locks into place. Duchess had perched herself on the edge of the large white bed, and was beckoning to him. Damn, that woman was magnificent. A primal urge began to awaken inside of him, but he fought it down, frightened to release it.

"A moment, darling," he said, his voice low and thick. He pried his eyes off of her and made his way toward a small side room.

Duchess watched him turn and head toward the room, knowing full well what he was about to do. She had endured many nights of half-hearted pleasuring at the hands of a tea-soaked king. And it was about to happen again.

But not if she could stop it.

Jack mixed the pale yellow of Serenity with the deep red of Desire, and the resulting tea turned a dark amber as he swilled it in its bottle. He raised his hand, bearing the bottle to his lips, but then he felt two strong arms wrap around him, one around his waist, the other around his chest, bringing his arm back down, and the bottle away from his mouth.

"Not tonight, Jack," a soft, sultry voice whispered in his ear, and a tongue softly flicked along his jawline. He shivered slightly. Duchess smiled against his neck, and let her left hand dip below his belt, even as her right hand removed the offending bottle from his hand, placing it back on the table.

She felt Jack tense slightly, and he turned toward her. His eyes held a mixture of longing and fear, and a hint of self-loathing. "Charlotte, I need to..." His voice faltered as she yanked on his belt, pulling his hips up against hers and grinding slightly. His pants became instantly too tight once more.

"No Jack. You need to feel. Real emotions, not tea." Her breath was hot against his ear, her body pressed up against his.

"That's the problem, Charlotte." He pulled away, gazing at her with desperate eyes. "I feel too much." There was anxiety and pain and fear and guilt, emotions he had rarely had to deal with but that had become his constant companion these last weeks. But when he was with her there was also hope and desire and lust and … love? And the mixture of all the emotions terrified him. They made him feel out of control, and Jack had always been in control.

"Whatever you are feeling, Jack, I want you to let it out." Duchess' voice was soothing, her eyes sad but hopeful. "Please Jack. Remember how it was, the night you proposed to me again? It was amazing, and it was you and me, and none of the tea. It was just us, and it was wonderful."

Jack's breath came a little ragged, the remembrance of that night arousing him even more. But he still protested. "That was when things were happy. That was victory. That was before..." Before the reality of what it meant to be the new king had settled in. Before he had been forced to order his own mother's execution. Before he had to battle daily for his right to rule. Before he had to lay accusations against one of his closest allies.

Charlotte could tell she was losing him. The pain in his face was, by this point, completely unmasked by tea. She could see the suffering, and she, more then anyone, knew the story behind it.

"Jack." She said his name softly, almost reverently. He looked up, and his eyes met her hers. And he saw only intense caring and desire in their deep blue pools. So very different from when she was his mother's creature, when she was high on Self-Importance and Indifference. Free of tea, there was a softness to her, and it only made her more beautiful.

He felt himself reaching for her, and not for the tea. His hand grasped the back of her neck, entwining in her long blonde hair and he pulled her against him and passionately pressed his lips against hers. She gasped a little at the sudden intensity, before responding with a heated passion of her own. Her hands traveled up his chest, to his shoulders, pushing the suit jacket back. Not breaking the kiss, or lessening its intensity, Jack dropped his arms long enough to shed the jacket, before wrapping them around her waist and her neck once more.

He finally broke the kiss, gasping for air, the blue of his eyes nearly eclipsed by the black of his pupils. He leaned his forehead against hers, and spared one last glance at the bottle on the table, before pulling Duchess through the door and back into the bedroom.

…

Jack leaned in and placed hot kisses along Charlotte's creamy neck, and down along her collarbone, reveling in every gasp and moan it elicited. Charlotte's hands kept busy, pulling at Jack's tie until it came loose, then swiftly undoing each button on his shirt, tracing her nails down every newly exposed inch of skin.

She could feel Jack beginning to pull at her dress, his hands running down her body, trying to figure out the best way to get her out of it. She withdrew her hands from Jack long enough to expertly unzip the back of her dress in a single motion that should not have even been possible.

What followed was a flurry of shedding clothing, and exploring the new territory. After Duchess' dress had been discarded, Jack's trousers and boxers swiftly followed, releasing his considerable erection. And as she stroked his newly freed member, he swiftly relieved her of the remains of her undergarments, before kissing a hot trail from her shoulder down to her breasts.

Duchess felt her breath catch and she threw her head back, gasping as Jack took a hard nipple into his mouth and suckled it. His hands traveled down her body, around her hips, grasping her bum. Then, in a swift motion, he lifted her backwards and onto the bed, and he was above her, his eyes glowing with lust and desire and need. Her eyes met his, full of desire and longing.

He hovered, the tip of his member just barely touching her heat, but feeling the wetness of her arousal.

She placed her hands on either side of his hips, urging him forward. And in a moment, he plunged, and he was inside of her. The sensation nearly overwhelmed him for a moment. Feeling her, so tight and hot – no tea could mimic the sensations he was feeling.

Duchess felt her hips moving, matching the powerful and aggressive rhythm that Jack was setting, and driving her quickly toward climax. It was real, and it was raw. There was no false emotions muddling the process.

It was all Jack, and all her, and it was wonderful, and it was what they both needed.

She wrapped her legs around his hips and cried out loudly as she came. And with a hoarse cry of his own, Jack reached his release, and collapsed down on top of her.

For a long while, she lay there, running her fingers through Jack's hair, smiling at the small victory of the night. Jack placed soft kisses on her neck and collarbone, before removing himself and rolling off of her.

He pulled the Duchess against his chest, and whispered into her hair, "I love you Charlotte. You know that, right?"

Charlotte smiled softly, her eyes bright with tears. He hadn't said those words since the night he had re-proposed. And they melted her entirely.

"I love you too, Jack," she whispered back. More then you know, she added silently. She had always loved him, and something told her she always would.


End file.
